Chapter 9 Nicole
Copper snorted so hard his bridle jingled.
Nicole braced her boots in the snowbank beside the sleigh, one gloved hand resting on Copper’s flank.
“You’re making me look bad, bud,” she murmured, stroking the mane of the horse she’d fed, brushed, and coddled for a decade, who now stood rooted to the snowy ground like an overgrown lawn ornament.
Her father, seated up on the sleigh bench, gave the reins a gentle twitch. “He’s stubborn today.”
Nicole shot him a look. “He’s stubborn every day.”
She rubbed Copper’s neck, feeling the powerful muscles coiled tight beneath his mahogany-colored coat. He wasn’t scared, exactly. Just…unwilling. Like something inside him remembered what had happened the last time he tried to pull the sleigh and said…Nope. Not again.
Something had startled him the first time he pulled the sleigh—maybe a loud noise. He hated ski helicopters and the rare rumble of thunder. Whatever it had been, he’d stumbled off the trail and, since that day, he hated the very sight of this thing.
“Baby, I get it,” she whispered into his ear, getting a noisy shake in response.
Boy, did she get it. She knew what “spooked” felt like, what the sight—or sound—of something scary could do to you. She knew how an ordeal remained engraved on your memory and paralyzed a person. Or a horse.
They’d always been connected on so many levels, whether Nicole was saddled up and trotting over the trails of Snowberry with him or just lazing in the paddock. They spoke the same language and Copper truly understood English.
When he wanted to.
As she coaxed him forward, she remembered the moment that had her frozen in shock just a few minutes earlier. Brianna had seen what was going on out here and had waved Nicole to the window.
Like bad little kids spying on their parents, the two of them had peered out and observed the whole sweet and, yes, romantic scene. They’d giggled and poked each other and laughed…but something about the encounter hadn’t really been funny.
It had been…dreamy.
Was there any chance? Maybe. She’d seen the way Dad had leaned closer, the way Mom had let his cheek brush hers. What had he said to her? An old memory? A dear name? An inside joke?
They had so much history. They should—
“You gonna try to move this horse, Nic, or are we going to give sleigh sits instead of sleigh rides?”
She threw a look over her shoulder at her father, half tempted to tell him what was on her mind. But that might jinx it. That might make him go running off back to Vermont.
“I’m trying,” she insisted, wrapping her arm around Copper’s neck. “I’m bonding with him. It takes a minute.”
“And a peppermint,” he suggested.
“Good thought.” She reached in her pocket and grabbed a candy to hold under Copper’s nose. His ears twitched. His lips wiggled. He didn’t move. “But apparently, he can’t be bribed. I have to talk to him.”
“All right. You work your magic.”
Cooing into his ear, she stroked his mane over and over, watching the fight slip from his eyes. “All right, big guy. Eyes ahead,” she said softly. “Where you look is where you go.”
Jack chuckled behind her. “And where’d you learn that line?”
“From the master,” she joked. “Come on, Copper. Come on, baby.” She urged him forward, and he took one small step, enough to jingle the bells attached to his harness.
And he froze again.
“Do sleigh bells scare him?” Jack asked.
“They remind him of the first time you harnessed him to this thing.” She turned and looked at him. “You remember? It was your last Christmas here and I was home from college.”
He nodded. “Of course. He slipped out where the trail turns into Moose Creek and there’s that big drop at the east end of the meadow.”
“He’ll ride past that in the summer,” Nicole said. “But he hates that trail in the winter, not that I take him out much in this weather.”
“I used to practice skiing down that drop,” her father mused, making her wince at the idea.
She gave the horse a kiss to cover. “We need you to fight through the winter blues, Copper. We need sleigh rides. Without you, we can’t make December and if we don’t make December…” She pressed her lips to his ear. “You’ll be boarded somewhere, and no one will be happy.”
He took one step.
“There you go, there,” she said encouragingly. “Let’s try it again.”
She tugged his bridle and stepped forward slowly. One step. Another. Copper watched her, his massive hooves unmoving.
“C’mon,” she coaxed. “Weight on your downhill foot.”
Jack laughed again. “At least you were listening yesterday.”
“Not as well as he is,” she crooned to Copper. “Now do better than I did, big boy. Another step. And another.”
He did, making the bells jingle softly, but he ignored it, clearly mesmerized by Nicole’s voice.
Copper licked his lips. Nicole placed the peppermint on her palm and held it out again. “What else do you say on that mountain, Dad?”
“Trust your body,” he answered. “It knows what to do. Pick a line and follow. Eyes ahead, not at your feet. Focus, focus.”
She raised a hand to thank him, repeating all the words to her horse. Slow, soft, with the same loving tone her father had used with her on the slopes. For a few beats, Copper stayed very still, then a single hoof shifted.
Nicole exhaled. “That’s it. Good boy. Trust yourself, baby. Just…” She threw a look at Dad.
“Trust your body,” he said. “Trust the snow. Trust the skis.”
She laughed softly. “Trust the sleigh,” she said instead. “Go with the rhythm. Follow, follow, here you go…”
She stepped forward, keeping an even pace with the horse’s shoulder. The harness creaked as Copper slowly leaned into it.
“You want this,” she murmured, remembering back years to her own training. Before she deeply feared snow and skis and being buried alive. “You know you want this, Copper. Steady…steady…”
Copper’s hooves crunched forward in the snow, dragging the sleigh with a soft groan of iron runners.
“We’re moving!” Dad said in a loud whisper, as if any actual noise could bring it all to a stop.
Nicole smiled wide, warmth flooding her chest. “That’s my boy. You’re doing it.”
Copper let out a soft nicker, his tail swishing. One slow step turned into two. Then three. Nicole kept alongside him, whispering praise, offering the occasional peppermint reward.
They reached the curve of the drive just as Red appeared, stomping through the snow like a mountain king.
He stopped short, his bushy brows shooting up as he rubbed his bald head. “Well, I’ll be. Is that Copper pulling that sleigh?”
Jack waved a gloved hand. “Sure is. Nic got him going.”
Red clapped his hands together. “Hot diggity dog, Nicky. Nice work. Mind if I hop on?”
Nicole stepped back, still grinning. “Be my guest. I’ve got to get back to work anyway. Think you can do this without me?”
Jack tilted his head. “Not as well, but we’ll try.” He added that Jack Kessler smile that she knew so well. The one that used to greet her at the bottom of every hill, the one that oozed pride and support and love. She loved that smile.
“Well done, young lady,” he said with a wink.
She nodded, her throat thick with how much she loved and missed her father, and how supportive he’d been her whole life. Had he been disappointed that she’d quit skiing? Yes, but he never stopped being an amazing father.
“Have fun,” she said, her voice taut. “And be careful!”
“We got this, girlie,” Red assured her as he climbed aboard with a grunt and a creak.
Copper huffed, then started moving again, now with confidence. Nicole stood in the snowy path, watching as her horse pulled the sleigh deeper into the property, past the paddock, and toward the row of cabins.
Well done, indeed. As she watched the back of the sleigh disappear over the rise, her eyes burned, and one thought danced in her head.
If Copper could do it…
Could she? She turned on her heel and jogged down the path, determination sparking in her chest. If she stopped and second-guessed this decision, it would be all over. She had to do this.
With a burst of excitement, she threw the door of the ski shed open, practically colliding with some customers carrying bags and poles.
“Oh, sorry! And thank you! Come again! Have fun on the slopes!” She gave them a wave and met Brianna’s surprised look from behind the counter.
“You got him going?” she asked.
“I did…and it got me going.”
Brianna’s brows lifted. “How so?”
She caught her breath from the run, placing both hands on the counter and leaning in. “I want to try again.”
Brianna blinked. “You do?”
God bless her bestie—she didn’t have to ask what Nicole wanted to try.
“I do,” she said. “I want to get over this thing. Will you take me?”
“Yes. Yes! Of course I will. First lift at Deer Valley. Are you sure me and not your dad?”
Nicole nodded fiercely. “Yes. I think he might accidentally hit some triggers for me, but if I go with you…”
“No triggers,” she promised, coming around the counter to offer a huge hug. “I’m proud of you.”
“Don’t be yet.” Nicole laughed into her shoulder, hugging back. “But we have to get someone to cover the store or go really, really early.”
“I vote for early, and we’ll get coverage. Maybe enough to stay for a few extra runs.”
Nicole sighed. “That would be so nice. I want to…” She bit her lip. “I want to ski so bad, Bri.”
“Then ski you shall!” She gave her another squeeze, then spun them both around toward the jacket rack. “And I say you do it in style.” She grabbed a bubblegum-pink ski jacket and held it up. “This. Absolutely this.”
Nicole wrinkled her nose. “That looks like cotton candy.”
“Exactly. It screams, ‘I am joyful and fearless and adorable on skis.’”
Nicole took the jacket. “Okay. Fine. And when I wipe out, I will look like a massive Pepto-Bismol spill.”
“If you wipe out,” Bri corrected. “I’m a very good instructor.”
They shared a grin. Then Bri gave her a sly look. “So, what exactly was going on with Jack and Cindy on the sleigh? I could have sworn they kissed.”
Nicole just shook her head, smiling. “Right? I couldn’t tell, but Mom was a tad flustered, and Dad looked…” She let out a moan. “I don’t know. I hate that I want them to rediscover each other but, oh, man, do I ever.”
“Same,” Bri said. “And just to give you a little more motivation? If you start skiing again, your dad will have another reason to stick around Park City.”
Nicole looked down at the jacket in her hands, letting her imagination go there and ache for how much she wanted that, too. “I’m doing it, Bri. I swear, I’m doing it.”
And just like Copper, she’d find her way forward. One slow, steady, peppermint-sweet step at a time.